What if?
by TheJollyReaper
Summary: What if Alessa chose to take out her vengance out on the world instead of just the town of Silent Hill. I probably suck at summing things up. Will contain concepts, characters and themes from other things but thay will not be the main concept


Hello Everybody!

This is my first published FanFiction it's a Silent Hill story. With Cast (and monsters, concepts, ect) drawn from other things such as Dead Space, Resident Evil, Tokyo Akazukin, and probably things from several other series spanning various genres.

Note: I had actually meant for the first chapter to come out over a month ago; however the jump drive I had it on disappeared, with it the entire five page chapter that I had spent over a week typing.

This chapter was partially inspired by a Lost Tapes marathon on NetFlix.

Ring around the Rosie

A dark shape rushes down the street through the pouring rain. Thin particular shape belongs to Leroy Jenkins; the local town's homeless vagrant and self described urban survival Expert.

His hair is graying and his face is unshaven. He is dressed in a pair of ratty jeans and an old gray trench coat. He stumbles down the road as fast as his legs can carry him, Down Main Street, through South Avenue and behind the Wall-mart. His memory shaded by the effects of earlier alcohol consumption tells him that there is an empty dumpster in the abandoned loth behind the superstore. His subconscious negates to remind him that the Wall-mart has been closed for several years now, and his potential shelter is long gone.

Making his way through the overgrown lots and miraculously navigating around the hidden dangers. Such as nail filled boards, broken glass, and large holes in the concrete. Leroy made his way slowly to the area where the woods met the edge of civilization. And of course our intrepid hero/idiot continued on his drunken path towards the woods and his comeuppance.

The rain had stopped, Leroy hardly noticed. In its place fog was rising from cracks in the ground. If he had bothered to turn around he would have seen a solid bank of mists rising to the clouds behind him. His drunken rambling had taken him far into the wood now. Beneath his booted feet, leaves and pine needles cracked, and mud squelched. Around him the trunks of mighty oaks, junipers, and pines rose high above the ceiling of mist, luminous lichens and fungus rotting the still living wood.

Shining eyes peering from beyond the barrier of mists and shadows, their revulsion and cruelty palpable through their gaze. Leroy did not perceive these things, but he did notice the temperature drop before the miasma enveloped his world.

He panicked; it was suffocating everything. The fog had made its presence known. All he could see was gray, a vertigo inducing blanket over his entire world. He had begun to run without even noticing. His breath was coming faster and faster. Out of the vast emptiness surrounding sounds echoed, hoots, wails, tortured moans, shrieks of pain beasts baying at an unseen moon. Behind him a great roar, noises blended to be unrecognizable. It seemed as though all of mayhem and anarchy were hounding his heels.

The thunderous cacophony that hunted him was suddenly preceded by lights, small and dim, disembodied floating in the gloom and fog. All around him the very world seemed to be spinning. Great forms tall and awkward carrying with them the smells of rotting timbers seemed to march all around him, reaching out with spindly ragged limbs. Grabbing at his face and clutching his coat. The very ground was quacking, he was screaming now. The world spun on its axis, and then there was blissful darkness.

Sudden awareness, Leroy exploded out into the waking world as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on his face. Now awake he took he took in his surroundings. Entertaining for a second that it had all been an alcohol induced delusion. But when he looked around that idea dissolved like snow in a blast furnace.

He was sitting at the base of a large oak tree, in the center of a grove about thirty feet across. What he could see ended abruptly with an opaque dome surrounding that area he was seated in. Nothing moved and their was not a sound to be heard. It was as if time itself had simply chosen to remain fixed unmoving.

Before him was a tunnel in the fog stretching as far as he could see. In the center almost beyond his vision was a tiny speck of light. Getting up quickly and flexing his stiff and aching muscles. Leroy began to walk down the tunnel. In his mind he was replaying all of the night's strange events, from the omnipresent fog, to the strange and distorted sounds and shapes.

It was this self-reflection that made him unaware of the dangers he was walking right into. He didn't see the fog become illuminated; didn't hear the subtle chanting, angelic voices singing graceful arias; deep pounding, demonic mantras pulsing from the heart of the earth itself.

Then at once Leroy became aware of the world around him again. He had made it to the edge of the tunnel, and stood on the precipice of an enormous clearing in the fog. The night sky domed the expanse. Millions upon millions of stars, more than he had ever seen in his lifetime, glittered like diamonds on a sea of black velvet. And the moon, a great silver disk, impossibly large shone down from directly overhead, like the very eye of God himself.

The clearing itself was almost treeless; a huge plain of tan grass sitting in the center of which was a massive bonfire that roared like some great beast. Mingling and dancing among the flames were small, vaguely humanoid shapes stretching their arms to the sky as though preparing to hold up the moon itself, should it fall.

Around the fire danced thousands of children. Their nude bodies covered in runic and tribal markings; painted in black, red, and white. Many wore masks depicting gargoyles or plague doctors. Chanting in every language imaginable, (and some that were not) singing and shouting. Out of the pulsing throngs tortured screams rang out. Delirious gibbering could be heard from every direction. Rising above the mob were lynched cats, huge crows picking at the stinking corpses.

Among all of this several groups and a few individuals stood out. To the far left an albino girl, dressed in a white kimono and holding a mirror sat among the branches of the clearings only tree, a cherry tree in full bloom; her face empty of all emotions, a complete void, and utterly indescribable.

To the right another girl sat along a log, her smile twisted by mania. The lower half of her body was like a deer's and she had a pair of antlers that sprouted from her head. To the near left a group of teens with four arms stood; dressed in bloodied aprons, their heads concealed by black sacks. Each carried four machetes on sheaths on their backs.

Standing out the most were two small figures standing on a three legged stone platform behind the fire. They wore long ceremonial robes colored scarlet and trimmed in black and gold. They each had a staff taller than they were and made a shiny black substance, obsidian maybe and they were topped with a large diamond shaped crystal made of erythrite or ruby. The figure on the closest point of the platform was a waif-like girl with short greasy black hair visible from beneath the cowl of her hood. She seemed to be overseeing the "festivities" and was looking rather smug. The figure behind her was shrouded in darkness despite the massive blaze before them.

The girl in front looked up and caught Leroy's eye and then she smiled. He had never been more terrified in his life. Or maybe it would be more appropriate to say that he had never been more disturbed in his life. Never could he have believed that a little girl could convey emotions like the ones he was receiving from her, malice, hatred, self-satisfaction, superiority, conceits, malevolence, revulsion and loathing. Her gaze made him feel like scum under the eyes of some sort of deity.

All in all not a face a child should be able to make.

Her hand came up in an almost lazy fashion and again time seemed to stop, as though they all had been waiting for this moment, as though it was the only reason for this gathering. Even the blazing inferno before her was silent and still. Then all eyes turned to her and were filled with adoration. She smiled down at the assembled masses of children and teens motionless as statues beneath her feet, a gentle caring and overall motherly gaze that held none of the previous emotions that had pierced him like a laser.

Leroy Jenkins at that moment had probably the only revelation of his entire life. The way she stood on the pedestal of stone the fire before her, the masses circled around it with looks of devotion and enthusiasm, for her, and only her. It seemed to him that nothing else mattered to them. That they must worship her like only the most devoted and zealous of cultists could. It was like a scene from the Bible or a Greek epic. The sovereign and powerful god descending from the heavens on a pillar of fire to bring sanity and order to the chaos of the world.

Then she spoke. Her voice was gentle and melodious, a comforting presence. Like the wind blowing through the branches on a forest.

"My faithful servants; on the night of the summer solstice, I made you all a promise, that I would reward you all for your devotion and labor. Now on the night of the fall equinox, I have fulfilled my promise to you. I have drawn to us your reward, and mine." As soon as her speech was done she smiled again, it was full of amusement and anticipation and completely replaced the caring expression she had worn just seconds ago.

Then her eyes met his again, and it seemed that all eyes followed hers as one. Form the Faun grinning madly to the albino girl sitting in the tree watching him with all of expressiveness of a doll "or a corpse". Even eyes previously hidden in the flames hidden before her sought him out. Icy blue holes in bodies made from cinders and flames. The singing started again and this time the meaning was crystal clear. "Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice!" A chant from the depths of time long since past come back to haunt him. The second figure came up beside the girl on the pedestal; and it smacked its staff into the platform, it rang clear as a bell. All of the weapons of the assembled masses were drawn.

And at this crucial moment Leroy. P. Jenkins made the smartest decision of his entire life.

He ran like Hell!

Authors notes: Well despite all of the crap I had to go through to get this done I don't think it turned out too badly. I have high hopes.

Please read and review I'll take anything, but would prefer suggestions comments or directions. Flames will be used to warm my feet.

Guess who is who.

And last but not least…

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!


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